


Mark of the assassin

by Valpur



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hanzo's new tattoo made me really emotional, M/M, Nightmares, Young Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 11:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10989708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valpur/pseuds/Valpur
Summary: Hanzo Shimada hadn't flinched when he received the blue tattoo on his left arm.And he didn't cry when his right shoulder was branded with fire after his first kill.He screamed. And something inside him had never fallen quiet ever since.





	Mark of the assassin

_He sat on his heels, hands on his thighs and eyes fixed on the paper and wooden wall in front of him. The winter air was chilled on his bare torso but he didn’t shiver; still, he couldn’t stop goosebumps from rising on his arms. On the left one, the intricate design of coiled dragons and lightning bolts was a bright blue pattern, detailed and too defined, not yet blurred by time._  
  
_Hanzo Shimada, eighteen-year-old, heir to the most powerful criminal clan in all Japan, hadn’t shed a single tear when, two years before, the tattoo that designated him as the heir to his family had been painted on his skin._  
  
_Now he was older – his hair was longer, his shoulders broader. There was blood on his hands, no matter how many times he’d washed them._  
  
_His first kill. A clean, quick job that had left him unscathed and given him nightmares for a week – but it was alright, he could endure them. It was his life and he was not one to shrink back from his duty._  
  
_A Shimada._  
  
_An assassin._  
  
_He took a deep breath and forced his heart to beat at a slow, steady rhythm. He didn’t flinch when faceless men entered the room – his father’s men, sworn to serve the Shimada clan and too respectful of their young master to meet his eyes._  
  
_It was for the better. Their gaze wouldn’t have lingered on Hanzo’s face, wondering if his pallor was caused by the tension of the ritual; they wouldn’t have seen his pupils blown wide as the brazier was brought forth._  
  
_The heat from the embers didn’t warm him. Hanzo clenched his fists and stood frozen, cursing in silence the drumming of his heart and his own weakness. He was not a coward nor a child._  
  
_Still, when the irons were placed in the red-hot nest of flames, he had to bit the inside of his cheek to prevent his teeth from chattering._  
  
_He was ready. He had to be – a lifetime of training and obedience had to be worth something. He was not Genji, a feather ruffled by the wind. He_ was _iron and fire, and he didn’t fear them._  
  
_Words were spoken around him, people moved in the empty room. Smell of smoke, burnt metal. A drop of sweat trickled down his spine._  
  
_Hanzo ignored everything. The white and black wall in front of him blurred when he heard the first sizzle from the brazier. The dragons flickered blue on his arm – they sensed fear._  
  
I’m not afraid.  
  
_Instinct yelled him to kick and fight the hands that closed on his shoulder and wrist, but he knew better. Calm as a river, twice as unrelenting._  
  
_Air flowed in forced breaths from his nose, and his jaws ached from the effort to keep them clenched._  
  
_He saw the iron being pulled from the embers. Two more dragons, chasing each other's tail – a symbol of continuity, of the endless history of the Shimadas._  
  
_Of the futility of their struggles?_  
  
_Hanzo quickly banished the thought from his mind. The heir was not meant to doubt, and he was determined not to._  
  
_Still, the seed was planted. One of his father’s men held the iron high, a scorching white and yellow thing Hanzo couldn’t but look at, forgetting for a second how to breathe._  
  
_He was a trapped beast, a calf ready to be branded as part of the herd. Not a son, not a boy, only a murderer and a pawn._  
  
No. No, these are lies. I’m Hanzo Shimada and this is my place. This is my burden and my legacy.  
  
_A gentle hand moved his hair from his shoulder and the iron approached. Hot, burning like the tears that he fought with all of his being, red like the blood he tasted on his tongue._  
  
_He hadn’t cried when the needle had pierced his skin – again and again, hours of agony._  
  
_And when the branding iron touched his arm he didn’t cry either._  
  
_He screamed, and all the muscles in his body contracted at once._  
  
_The stench of charred skin and muscle choked him, but not enought to stop his voice._  
  
_His throat was on fire like his flesh, and the beastly sound turned to a roar and then to a wail_.

_Eventually, to a sigh._

 

A big, rough hand was shaking him. The screaming was gone – he was panting, gasping, and a low voice thick and sweet as syrup floated to his ear.  
  
“Darlin’, you alright, I’m here… Hanzo, wake up, ‘t was but a nightmare”.  
  
Hanzo took a great lungful of air and shivered. Red shadows were still dancing in front of his eyes, but the more he blinked, the more the room turned grey, dark and quiet.  
  
He was in his bed, the covers tangled around his legs and a veil of sweat on his skin.  
  
McCree brushed his damp hair back, and his fingers traveled from his temple to his neck, down to his shoulder.  
  
The mark was nothing but a scar. Just another scar, a memento of a life he’d left behind. Hanzo wrapped his arms around his body and let McCree hold him close.  
  
Nightmares were nothing new to them both, but this time…  
  
_It was so real. I was there, they were burning me, to be sure I remembered who I belonged to._  
  
He curled against McCree and breathed in the sweet nothings he was still whispering.  
  
_Not anymore._  
  
McCree cupped his face in his hand and lifted his chin. A sweet smile was playing on his lips, and his eyes, puffy with sleep as they were, shone with love in the darkness. A slow caress fluttered on his cheekbone, wiping away the remains of tears.  
  
“Yer safe now”, and he leaned to place the softest of kisses at the corner of his mouth.  
  
Hanzo sighed and relaxed.  
  
McCree was right.  
  
It was just another scar, and he was safe, now.

**Author's Note:**

> So! Happy Overwatch Anniversary!
> 
> I must say I was not disappointed, Hanzo's new skin is pretty cool - but WERE'S MY HIPSTER HANZO yet? - and it turned painfully interesting as soon as I read some headcanons about the tattoo on his right shoulder. It doesn't actually look much like a tattoo and more like a branding of some kind.  
> Ouch.  
> I got hit by all the feels about this poor man and had to write this little thing here. With a side dish of cuddles because Hanzo deserves to be loved.
> 
> As usual, since I'm 110% Dragon Age trash, the title comes from the DLC of DA2. Which I love dearly.


End file.
